


To Reach A Happy Place

by HolyEmpress



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Happy Ending, Hospital Setting, M/M, Motorbike accident, Post-Graduation, dark themes, passing mention of other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 15:46:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyEmpress/pseuds/HolyEmpress
Summary: Madara graduates.Originally published in Graduation! enstars zine, still available for free (@enstars3rdyears on twitter). The original version within the zine features two beautiful illustrations by @spacetier and better formating.





	To Reach A Happy Place

It’s a split-second decision, but not an especially hard one.

 

They had rehearsed that scene so many times, going over each detail slowly to make sure everybody knew what to do, inspecting the set endlessly just to be sure everything would go as planned. The motorbike stunts he was hired for were not something to be taken lightly, and as always, the studio couldn't afford to blow up the same building twice - he had to make it in one take or take responsibility for disappointing his fans.

He'd woken up feeling excited and impatient.

 

It was always nothing but split-second decisions, intense focus, and perfect execution, so it's not different this time, when he lets go of the wheel and accepts that he's gonna have to take this especially painful fall - but he's aware, even if the cameras are still on, that he's left the realm of make-believe for good.

It hurts like hell when it hits.

 

But the other rider - the one who had made the error and gotten his trajectory mixed up – is able to use the few extra seconds he'd bought him with this maneuver to rectify his mistake and avoid the deadly collision he’d set himself up for, so, before his vision fades, he knows.

That he’d really picked the best out of two terrifying options.

 

***

 

_ Mikejima-san. _

The nurse waiting for him in the post-anesthesia room is nice and gentle ; she speaks slowly, and laughs when he starts reciting his date and place of birth with an energetic, cheerful voice.  _ I’m glad you’re putting a lot of spirit into this, Mikejima-san,  _ she declares before resuming her explanations. He has trouble keeping his eyes open ; part of him wants to sing, to rejoice because he’s alive and breathing, but the rest of his body is just craving sleep. Still, he does his best to pay attention when she starts listing off his various injuries.

Broken ribs, a severe fracture on his right leg, as well as several areas of torn-off skin.  _ You’re lucky you were wearing a helmet,  _ she adds, a sentence that sends chills down his spine – recalling the many movies he’d shot without any kind of protection over his face. « It’s as much of a selling point as the stunt itself », the producers liked to repeat whenever he stepped foot on set, and he didn’t think twice about it – because he wanted to show it to them too, his acting, the expressions of a cool action hero as he saved the world, the strength of someone who could fly past any limit.

Wearing it was the exception. Because the scenario justified it in that scene, he’d happily obliged, not knowing what was to come. How ironic.

 

The nurse tries to wrap up her explanations quickly. She tells him about the doctors that are going to come check on him soon, about the additional exams they’ll have to perform – and finally, she informs him about the presence of his parents in the hospital.  _ We’re gonna set you up in a nice room and let them see you, is that okay, Mikejima-san ? _

 

He nods.

It’s not like he can object to anything in his current state. The world feels heavy, and every neon light, as medical staff drags his bed through a seemingly endless corridor, is as blinding as a thousand suns. Once they reach the room, he decides to give up ; there’s noises and signals of pain and he cares about neither of those, his mind still filled with images of those few seconds who’d decided whether he’d live or die. It had come so close. For the sake of a movie, he’d risked losing everything. 

 

When they arrive, his parents look like ghosts.

He’d rarely seen them like this, so exhausted and quiet. After all, their family was nothing but loud, passionate people - even his secluded sister voiced her opinions with strength. Right now, little of that brightness was left, and all he could do was contemplate the damage he’d done, breaking something precious once again without ever wanting to.

 

His mom walks up to him in silence, taking the seat next to his bed and, very carefully, she starts braiding his hair, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. Her movements are slow, but precise ; he knows better than to ask her why she’s so adamant about fixing his appearance when his leg is stuck in a cast and most of his skin still covered in bruises – it’s his mom’s logic, just as faulty as his own, the expression of a love that struggled to reach the heart.  _ Here you go, troublemaker,  _ she lets out as she joins the two braids together to form his usual ponytail.

 

_ The producer told us about the man you saved,  _ his dad finally declares, still standing in front of the door, and he offers him an apologetic smile as an answer. The sense of déjà-vu is just too strong ; they’d had variants of that conversation before, back when he was still in school, every time he came home with a bloody nose or damaged clothes. His dad always waited to hear the full story before deciding on an appropriate punishment, invariably concluding with the same  _ « I wish you would learn how to rely on others, Madara » _ , yet he’s spared him from the heavy words this time.

They know better than to scold him when he’s just following their own example.

 

He remembered being five and trying not to cry after seeing that large scar on his mother’s back.  _ Who did this to you, mommy ?  _ he’d asked, ready to fight the whole world just for her, but the answer had come, disappointing and hurtful -  _ I did it to myself, Mommy is clumsy, you know ?  _ As if a child couldn’t recognize such a big lie.

He remembered, taking the bus to the hospital after school to visit his dad, even when they didn’t even want him to.  _ I’m gonna recover soon, see ? The bad guys missed.  _ He’d suffered from nightmares for weeks after that incident, and he could tell, that his parents wouldn’t find sleep again, closing their eyes only to see his motorbike crashing into a wall, their son becoming an unrecognizable mess of guts and blood – they’d suffer through dreams of funerals, of all these grim futures they’d barely avoided.

 

His mother leans forward to kiss his forehead. 

«  _ We’re keeping you awake, aren’t we ? »  _ she jokes, and he’s too afraid to ask her to stay before she pushes his dad toward the door with a promise to come back the next day -  just like that, it’s over. He’s alone in an hospital room, craving sleep and yet suddenly aware, that he’d get to see another sunrise .

That he’d lived through the day he should have died.

  
  
  
  


***

 

The next time he wakes up, a familiar silhouette is sitting by the window, moonlight shining off his red hair as he stares blankly at the wall.

He takes a few seconds to observe Leo, still dazed by the painkillers, finding it hard to believe he was even there at all, finding no reason for him to be ; but those thin fingers which push down invisible piano keys once in a while – whenever the artist finds inspiration in the patterns of immaculate white paint – can only belong to one person. A presence as magical as always, making him feel as if he could fall asleep again in an instant hypnotized by the invisible lullaby of those graceful hands. So he doesn’t try to make sense of his sudden apparition.

 

\- Bestie ! He calls instead, deciding to interrupt mutual trance, and his voice comes out strangely weak.

 

He can’t tell how long he’s been sleeping.

Pain is still omnipresent, barely dimmed by morphine. Breathing takes effort ; staying awake, too, is an act of resistance against his body’s natural inclinations, but he doesn’t want to surrender so soon. 

Not when the strange young man in front of him hasn’t even spoken yet. 

After another minute, Leo finally turns away from the wall.

 

He blinks, once, twice ; before his expression transitions from melancholy to fury.

Their eyes meet, and he can tell it’s an attack, because instead of vivid forest green, all he feels within his best friend is fire, bright blazing anger, an intense whirlwind of negative emotions taking over the room in an instant.

 

\- I hate you ! Leo shouts.

 

He’d never seen him like this ; and, for the first time, he senses his new limitations, unable to stand up from his hospital bed and hold his best friend close, even when he wants so badly to squeeze that anger out of him, to help him let go of that the toxic emotion that was making his hands shake and his face show such terrifying distortions – such things simply weren’t going to be possible for now, and it hurt strangely, to become a spectator in his own tragedy.

 

\- You’re the worst ! You’re stupid ! Stupid Mikejimama ! I hate you ! Leo continues.

\- Please calm down ! It’s an hospital here ! He protests.

 

The words come out too low once again, but his friend does stop, eyes still full of flames as he takes a few deep breaths - he has to make the most of that grace period, or Leo would drown into that feeling again, into that sentiment that scared him. Hatred. Not understanding his best friend was terrifying ; it left too much room for errors, too many opportunities to hurt him even more, when he felt so incredibly stupid already for not sensing the danger before.

 

His presence had seemed like a gift, just a moment ago. They hadn’t seen each other in so long, he’d hoped for a loving reunion, for Leo’s warmth, for his smile and his laughter, for the sweetness that couldn’t be shared from far away.

 

He tried to keep up with him nowadays, no matter how difficult it had become, but since they’d graduated, life simply wasn’t the same. Leo spent a lot of time abroad, sleeping on sofas in the back of famous recording studios and forgetting everything that wasn't song, experiencing childlike wonder whenever he stepped foot in the outside world again, immediately texting him after a week of silence just to let him know that the sky was still beautiful and blue. He listened to his ramblings happily whenever the genius blessed him with a phone call ; but most of the time, all he could do was wait for the radios to play one of his melodies.

Seeing him compose in person was the rarest of privileges.

A magic moment he’d spoiled.

 

\- Let’s talk, okay ? You can tell Mama why you hate him, alright ?

 

He tries to smile at him, forcing it just a little, even though Leo seems to be very far away all of a sudden - or maybe it was the other way around, he never wanted to think about it too hard, but the circumstance were forcing him now.

To confront that darkness. To see the difference.

 

_ « I hate you. » _

 

He used to think they were alike.

Barely humans but full of love, sitting on a solitary throne and lonely even within the liveliest festivals ; or at least, maybe, it was a lie his heart had held on to, back in high school, that he was just a little bit like Leo, like the perfect, naïve Leo who saw nothing but stars even in the darkest, most depressing skies, whose love remained untainted.

But years had passed as he’d kept clinging to that meaningless illusion, and suddenly, he had to acknowledge the distance, to accept that his best friend had become an adult too, a dreamer capable of reaching out to the human world - it made sense that such a pure person wouldn’t like him anymore.

A knight wouldn’t be friends with a such a dangerous, lonely wolf.

 

\- Weren’t you recording abroad ? Did you fly back just for me, Leo ?

 

Speaking doesn’t get easier, but the redhead nods. All of a sudden, there’s a story in his silence, a phone call, a plane ticket and a few skipped meals ; there is time spent in the skies worrying about just how bad and how bloody a motorbike accident could get, minutes wasted in speculation, reading useless news articles, trying to find the truth among the dirty gossip. There are tears – he can see them clearly, and it makes him sick, sick to know what he’d done to somebody that loved him.  _ I would hate me too,  _ he thinks.  _ I would hate me for forcing this burden on you. _

 

« But that’s just what I do » his mind completes on it own, but he doesn’t let it cross his lips, because it’s too weak of an excuse, it’s another scar he can’t inflict on Leo’s heart, not when his best friend was trying to hide his tears - he has to find a lie, « I run into danger to feel alive » won’t do - but before he can piece together any convincing front, their eyes meet again.

It lasts longer now that Leo’s animosity has faded ; he can tell he’s looking for something – his search lasts a while, but whatever he’s looking for ultimately isn’t there, so his friend turns away, and takes out a marker to start scribbling on the sleeve of his hoodie with shaky hands.

 

\- You always say you’re okay, but that’s a huge lie, right ? he whispers, looking at the notes he’d written down with a disappointed expression.

 

Water mixes in with the ink, overflowing, quickly turning into ugly sobs, each one making a distinct cut into his heart, into his skin, little scratches that act as reminders of the things he cannot do, can’t hug him with those arms full of burn scars, can’t get on his knees and beg for forgiveness before he learns to walk again, can’t apologize in any way that would be right.

Can’t admit that he’s a liar either ; and Leo’s words keep echoing,

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, it was just an accident, a meaningless motorbike accident,  _ I am fine,  _ he wants to shout – but that alone is enough to let him realize that it’s become a reflex, a way to dissimulate the truth, so, mercilessly, his friend delivers the final blow.

 

\- Is that because I can do nothing for you, Mama ? Because I’m useless ?

 

It’s torture.

Watching Leo cry and blame himself for the mistake of others – he could never tolerate it, not when they were five, not in highschool, the injustice was simply too much to bear, but he couldn’t take out the source of his pain right now. There was no enemy to beat, no vendetta to settle ; just a mountain of his own errors he couldn’t get over, and he fails to make the important decision in time, because Leo storms out of the room before he can gather the courage to say the word.

_ Sorry, I’m really, really sorry –  _ it fades into the night, swallowed by the dark.

 

***

  
  


The first week of being hospitalized is agonizing, first, because it seems so indescribably long, and, worse than that, because it feels like waiting.

 

The movie producers visit him once, with flowers, excuses and promises for large sums of money. His family comes back too, but it doesn’t make time go any faster, stretching it instead as they try to maintain conversations that serve no purpose. Chatting was pointless; as long as he couldn’t run, his thoughts would never able to clear or form any kind of coherent reasoning. He was suffocating slowly, smiling like a machine, automatic and insincere – so that they wouldn’t notice just how stir-crazy he was getting.

 

Leo had flown back to America right after their conversation ; but his presence never faded, like a battle scar on his heart, regrets his only companions as the days went on, making him even more eager to just get out and ride a bike again. Even with a broken leg, he would have been happy to run away – and the fact that he could realistically manage to escape was a thought that kept coming back to haunt him, but, thanks to his best friend’s terrifying words, he forces himself to resist.  _ You’re not okay,  _ he tells himself, once in a while – even if he’ll keep it a secret for now, acknowledging it seems important.

 

He tries to message his friends to combat the boredom ; the exercise is surprisingly difficult after being absorbed in work for so long, he’d missed important events, new girlfriends, new jobs, new popular songs, and it made him feel like a stranger to the people he loved, adding to his already overwhelming frustration, but thankfully – this one person answers , the one that never worried about « catching up », who was always just too happy to talk about herself, she answers and, quickly, he finds himself smiling.

 

And he smiles even wider – when she makes a grand entrance through the door of his hospital room a few days later, greeting him in a way that could only be qualified as  _ fanservice. _

 

\- Who’s the  _ naughty boy  _ that requested me ? Arashi asks with a playful wink.

\- My beautiful daughter came home ! He answers, opening his arms for a light hug.

 

She leans in gently – they’d discussed his injuries long enough for her to know about his broken ribs. He silently notices the earrings she’s wearing, and that her nails are painted as well - even after all those years, that one habit has never died, he has to check her appearance to make sure she’s okay. It had saved him too often in high school - those occasions on which he’d realized an important step of her makeup routine had been skipped over, or that her long-sleeved outfit was too warm for the season. Small signs.

But there are no small signs today – only a bright, beautiful supermodel sitting next to his hospital bed.

 

\- I’m happy too, Mama, she says. Even if I would have prefered for our reunion to happen somewhere else... The lights in here are just so unflattering, it stresses me out, you know ?

\- Does that mean you could be looking prettier right now ? I find that unlikely, Arashi-san.

 

She laughs.

He doesn’t tell her ; but her presence is enough to change his dull white room into a happier place.

 

After graduation, Arashi had found a new beginning in Europe. She was incredibly popular nowadays, walking runways in both Paris and Milan, getting interviewed in luxurious magazines that praised her as the new muse of fashion – he had a few of her recent covers saved on his phone, incredible photographs where it was hard to recognize the high school student he once knew, buried under layers upon layers of expensive clothes, and holding her head high with renewed confidence. The woman in these photographs wasn’t afraid of anything anymore, and seeing her thrive made his heart burst with unreasonable excitement.

 

He believed in positive change, in people that were like flowers, coming alive under the light of love and support, in a youth bright enough to illuminate the sky – he wanted her to stay as dazzling as she was right now forever. Warm and sun-like.

 

Suddenly, Arashi’s expression changes – her face lights up as she realizes something crucial.

 

\- May I ? she asks, pointing to his hair.

 

He nods.

She starts running her fingers through his hair with a look of extreme concentration. He was wearing it down for once – so many times in the past, she’d mentioned that he ought to switch it up more often,  _ it would be pretty too ! I could help you with it ! _ a remark he’d brushed off as insignificant, but here, he couldn’t ask the nurse to put up with an additional hassle, not with how much assistance they had to provide to him already.

It wasn’t so bad if it made Arashi happy.

 

\- It’s funny how much younger this makes you look, she comments.

 

He was absorbed in the graceful motions of her hands ; the way she caressed each strand was incredibly soothing, intimate without being uncomfortable – for the first time since the accident, he could feel the tension leaving his body just a little.

 

\- Is that your gentle way of telling me I’m aging, Arashi-san ? I’m wounded !

\- No, no ! You’re a natural beauty, like me, of course, she objects. I’m sure they don’t edit your movie posters all that much, Mr. Action Hero.

The nickname takes him by surprise – he’d almost forgotten, chained to his hospital bed, that for months, all Arashi had seen from him was promotional material for dark stories with titles like « _ Blood Hunt _ » or the infamous «  _ Ride or Die _ » series he was filming for when the accident happened.

Action hero – the phrase was somewhat ironic, when he felt like an action loser, or an action moron at best.

 

\- That’s quite a bold thing to say for the girl who doesn’t watch anything I’m in, hmm ? he answers, eager to keep the conversation going.

\- As I said, I still take a look at the  _ posters,  _ you should be praising me.

 

He offers her a smile instinctively, trying to hide the surge of dark thoughts prompted by the mention of his career. He knew of Arashi’s dislike for violence - and it was strangely painful to think that he had never starred in anything that wouldn’t make her sick to her stomach, that he’d never dared invite her to a premiere even once, that the performance he was so proud of was an unbearable spectacle to someone he cared about so much.

 

\- My fans are super upset about the delay in production, he confesses. I’ve been getting a lot of well-wishes, and almost as many insults on my online accounts since the accident, isn’t that depressing ? It’s like they’re trying to find out if I’m really gonna hunt them down like all my characters do.

 

Arashi’s face darkens.

She moves her hand away from him, and he recognizes that peculiar look in her eyes, that moment where her aura switches from cheerful to somber, as something he experienced too. He hadn’t meant to start venting like this. He wasn’t used to anybody getting angry on his behalf, but it was obvious that she was trying to think of a way to deal with her own displeasure at the moment.  _ It’s not their fault, I give them high expectations –  _ he thinks but doesn’t say, repeating his new mantra instead as he waits for her reaction.  _ It’s not okay even if I pretend it is. It’s not fine. _

 

\- I can’t imagine how boring this must be to you, but there’s better things to check on the computer than messages from people with too much time on their hands.

 

Her voice is soft, but there’s something strangely powerful about it, about her peacefulness – he recognizes that confidence he’d seen in her photographs before. Of course, Arashi had experienced fame before him, and backlash too, fashion was a merciless world. She could understand him.

What a strange role reversal, for the cool action hero to take advice from the fashion muse – yet, he couldn’t shake off the impression that she’d seen even more than just what his words had let on, only keeping silent out of respect.

Maybe it was just thanks to that hair that made him look a little less invincible than usual and those awful, unflattering hospital lights, but Arashi was handling him with care, like something fragile, and that gentleness was healing, making him believe that he’d be able to say it eventually.  _ I’m not okay, but I’m glad you’re here. _

\- It’s been so long since we’ve gone shopping together, don’t you think ? There’s a toooon of cute online shops I know about now ! she continues – a flawless transition to a lighter subject.

\- Is there really a point if I can’t carry your bags ?

\- You’re hopeless ! Shopping is about spending time together ! About self-love ! It’s pampering for the soul !

 

He laughs along.

Those were good memories from a period where he didn’t have so many, just wasting time at the mall playing dress-up, eating ice cream and forgetting about the drama of high school life. He couldn’t say he missed it – at least, he tried not to, pouring his energy into all the intense work he could find until he didn’t have to consider the fact that he wasn’t « hanging out » with anyone.

 

Arashi doesn’t ask for permission before taking out his laptop from under the bedside table.

 

\- Here. Time to spoil ourselves.

 

She starts typing fast, opening one tab after the other, as if recreating a virtual mall just for the two of them. He catches a glimpse of the extravagant price tags and ultimately decides not to care about that for now, Arashi’s eyes are just too full of stars for him to bring the mood down – her smile is the most precious thing in this moment.

They pick a new pair of earrings for her, with a matching necklace ; she encourages him to get some trendy jackets on the next website, teasing him about the many fashion crimes he’d committed during his promotional tours. He doesn’t try to defend himself ; without her around, dressing up seemed pointless, so he’d given up on it entirely, after all, old jeans and comfortable t-shirts were all he needed to ride his bike.

But Arashi made shopping feel so fun, so  _ special.  _ Hours fly by and he doesn’t want her to go, wondering if there was a way to make her stay, a combination of words to uncover – but deep down, he knows he can’t ever allow himself be so selfish.

They close the laptop only when his visiting hours end, and he can tell she’s a bit hesitant to put their fun activity to an end, discreetly checking her phone for the details of her flight back to Europe, trying to keep her attention on him as much as possible.  _ What are you waiting for ?  _ He wants to say, but it only takes a minute of silence for it to become obvious.

The ugly thoughts are quick to come back, drawn out by the low light of the setting sun. 

He’d be alone soon ; so he had to ask her before it was too late. 

 

\- Say, have you heard anything from Leo-san ? 

 

She doesn’t answer right away, and he wonders if she can see them on his face – the traces of that night, the shadows of the tears he wasn’t brave enough to cry, and all of these unanswered text messages weighting on his mind. He’d never brought it up in their conversations, but the former members of Knights were a tight group of friends – there was no way she wouldn’t know, even if it was strange to think about that discussion, about two persons worrying about him without ever being forced to.

 

_ \-  _ He was really scared, Mama. Just because you can do all these incredible things doesn’t always mean you  _ should. _ If I was good at everything…

 

She pauses, the way people do when they’re about to say something hurtful – and Arashi ultimately decides not to wound him even more. There are words even geniuses don’t want to hear, and talents even those who are good at everything can never dream to acquire.  _ I wish I was as gentle as you. _

 

\- Ah, forget it. Work hard to recover, okay ? I’m really gonna miss my flight at this rate.

  
  


_ *** _

 

They release him after a month - he walks out with a prescription for painkillers and crutches that don’t look sturdy enough to resist him for more than a week, accompanied once again by his family.

For the first time in his life, someone else is carrying his bags. His parents offered to let him stay at home for a while, so that he could recover at a reasonable pace - which was a very kind way to remind him he couldn’t be trusted to slow down on his own. It was a fair concern – the smell of fresh air alone made his brain burn with thoughts of running away and chasing down the horizon.

 

He forgets about it once he gets to step into his old room, however. The display case full of motorbike toys is still here, just like his large collection of books, and he also discovers a pile of sketchbooks dating from  _ Mam _ ’s debut in the drawers of his desk, filled to the brim with concepts for costumes and set designs. He flips through them until dinner, fascinated by those doodles that seemed to have been executed by a stranger - a surprisingly naive, starry-eyed version of himself, capable of spending a thousand hours just to try and to turn these silly dreams into a reality. He remembered the struggle of sewing, back when his hands were too clumsy not to break the needle within the first few seconds.

It had been a while since he’d participated in a concert – he’d never officially given up on that career, but it was hard to release an album when breaks never lasted more than a week or two, all he could do was gather the lyrics he wrote in the margin of his movie scripts, hoping to make a song again someday, to find time to invest into something sincere once the endless acting would be over.

 

His dad brings him a guitar the next day, without ever being asked to, as if trying to say «  _ that’s just what you used do, right ? »,  _ so he spends his first week of forced vacation playing old songs, getting acquainted with the instrument again. The melodies sounds wrong, but he keeps going nonetheless. There’s not much to occupy his days besides singing for an imaginary crowd – walking is incredibly tedious, and he’s genuinely exhausted.

After a week, he makes his way back to the hospital for the first of many medical appointments – two doctors talk to him about physical therapy, damaged tissues, about the patience it takes to make a leg work like it used to. They use strange words, referring to him as an  _ athlete,  _ mentioning  _ trauma,  _ but it’s over before he can truly get uncomfortable. Just like that, they shake his hand and sentence him to more weeks of waiting with no purpose.

He’s almost ready to take the bus and go home before he suddenly hears them - irresistible, mysterious loud noises.

 

It takes little investigating before he identifies the origin of these sounds, joyfully ignoring a few warnings on the way – none of them serious enough to warrant giving up on an amusing search. The corridors he passes through are mostly empty, until the final room he enters reveals a spectacle most unexpected.

 

Standing on a makeshift stage, four heroes are entertaining an audience of children under the supervision of parents and nurses, and he knows the lyrics to the song they’re singing. He’d stumbled on a  _ Ryuseitai  _ performance, in the middle of the hospital, just like that – but thankfully, the main character hasn’t noticed his presence yet ; so he leans against the wall, hidden by the crowd, and decides he might as well observe them.

It’s been a while since he’s witnessed such an enthusiastic audience. The kids clap to the beat and cheer endlessly, some even going so far as to recite their favorite catchphrases. He mouthes the words in silence alongside them, and can’t help but whisper his own old introduction when the final showdown of their show begins,  _ purple flames are the mark of bravery –  _ just for the sake of remembering what it felt like to say it.

 

His instincts were urging him to run away. He was intruding upon a happy moment, and watching Chiaki sing with his teammates was bringing out the negative emotions he’d been trying to repress for weeks ; yet, it was impossible not to stay, in the warmth of that festival-like atmosphere, impossible not to look at them with envy as they made smiles bloom in this sterile medical world.

He tries to make a stealthy escape at the end. Everything about this situation made him feel  a ghost from the past, bitterly attempting to stain the future he couldn’t be part of - the least he could do was to disappear gracefully, without ever forcing them to see the true extent of his ugly jealousy. 

 

Alas - it’s not so easy to perform such a feat with a heavy pair of crutches. 

 

\- Mikejima-san !

 

The voice calling out for him is pretty and cheerful, but fills him with dread nonetheless. There was a price to pay for every mistake - he didn’t want to talk to him, yet, he answers, naturally sliding back into a routine he’d almost forgotten about. Though he’d been forced to change costumes many times, that character still existed within him. The hero who set an example.

_ The ever so admirable purple member of Ryuseitai. _

 

\- Ah ! Chiaki-san, hello !

 

He thinks about a way out, wishing for his phone to ring, for a nurse to call him out on his rule-breaking, anything to avoid this conversation. 

Even if it’s just another role he has to play, a scene that would come to an end, even if he thought of himself as a talented actor - he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fake that one with conviction.

Those disgusting feelings of envy were still weighing on heart, no matter how hard he tried to downplay them.

 

\- It’s been forever, I didn’t know you’d be here today ! Is your injury getting better ? I was really waiting for that movie, you’re so popular ! As expected !

 

And Chiaki doesn’t see it - how could he, when he’s just managed to light up an entire room with hope? His feet weren’t done dancing and he hadn’t even changed out of his performance clothes. He recognized that high - whenever a concert ended, all a singer ever wanted to do was to head straight back up and deliver his encore, and this was Chiaki’s encore, that boring conversation he was ready to pour all his positivity into.

It almost  felt like an attack on this facade he was desperately attempting to maintain.

 

\- Your show is doing really great too, I’ve heard ! he says, trying to match the red hero’s energetic intonations. All the kids I see nowadays have those accessories… the…

\- Star bracelets ! That plotline was amazing, right ? When all the believers of justice came together to bring the Meteorangers back from the evil dimension by raising their fists to the sky ! « As long as you fight for what is right, your star bracelet will never stop shining » !

 

He nods - he didn’t care about the story of Chiaki’s children show. This was empty chatter, meant to avoid the more difficult topics ; if they never went beyond the limits of this polite exchange, he wouldn’t have to answer any question about his broken leg. He wouldn’t mention the person who was missing from the stage today too, respecting the terms of this silence agreement.

They could both yell and smile all they wanted ; the distance would remained unchanged.

 

\- You’re so motivated, that’s great ! Keep fighting, Meteoranger !

 

The encouragement is meaningless, only there to fill the silence, because it wasn’t acceptable to just shout those three simple words.  _ Leave me alone.  _

_ I’m not okay.  _

 

He couldn’t allow himself to show that side to Chiaki, who seemed already somewhat troubled - he realizes that the young man wasn’t looking directly at him anymore, staring at the crutches instead, the symbol of his defeat. When people stared at those for too long, they all started seeing those bloody images.

The gory red scene ; the shadow of death - the victim, passed out on the ground.

\- Mikejima-san… you’re going to have to go through rehabilitation for that injury, right ?

\- Ahah, yeah. Me and my leg will have to get acquainted with each other again.

 

He can tell where this is going, and it’s too late to wish Chiaki wouldn’t worry about him. He’d failed to deliver a convincing performance, to build a wall high enough to push away  _ a friend. _

_ Why would you care about me when I’ve always been so horrible? _

 

\- I wanted to ask, would it be a bother if I accompanied you ? Not that you need my presence, of course, but since I go to the hospital so often anyways….

 

It’s painful.

Resisting red flames hurts. .  

 

He thinks about the fight even he cannot win, against an enemy he never had any desire to defeat, thinks about Chiaki’s bright and naive nature and all the wonderful qualities that had gotten him into so much trouble during his first two years of highschool, but were now filling small children with inspiration and hope. Those pure kids that would never know their hero wasn’t even able to step on stage at some point, who wouldn’t ever learn the name of the person who’d dragged him away from the shadows, because that character was  _ the villain. _

 

He couldn’t win against warmth, friendship and kindness, but it was still hard to welcome these sincere feeling after years wasted worrying that his own love was nothing but a force of destruction. Even if they were trying to end a sad story, facing his regrets was bound to hurt. If he’d accepted Chiaki’s light earlier, if he’d faced the true reason behind his loneliness, maybe he could have been a hero too.

 

\- You’ve really changed a lot, hmm, he can’t help but whisper.

 

In front of him, Chiaki was still smiling, believing in a friendship that could be mended, and it forced him to think about the lesson he’d learned thanks to his accident.

Rule number one _ ,  _ always say what’s on your mind - before it’s too late, before your best friend gets mad at you, before your heart turns into a prison. Lies for the sake of protecting someone else were just a way to deny your own problems, and those problems had turned into monsters now. Beasts that needed to be slain.

Rule number two _ –  _ call for help before the bike crashes into the wall. Someone will answer, even if you’re the strongest person around, even if you wished you didn’t need it at all.

 

And – rule number three.

_ Cherish your friends more. They never forgot about you. Not even once. _

 

\- If you’re up for it, then I’ll text you the dates ! It’s pretty intensive, so be ready. You’re my training buddy from now on, Chiaki-san !

 

Chiaki’s eyes light up – his expression is one of surprise, as if he hadn’t even considered the possibility of getting a positive answer. For a second, they both hesitate to say something more, to take advantage of that distance that was starting to disappear, before deciding against it. It was too early to mention these painfuls things.

Smiling was enough for now.

 

And his smile, now that he’d spread those graceful wings of justice,  truly was a precious sight to see.

 

\- I have to get back to the other members ! See you next week, Mikejima-san !

 

He waves at him - and as soon as he manages to get out of the hospital, takes out his phone and tries to call  Leo.

He had to prove himself that he’d really learnt.

 

The unlikely miracle occurs, and his best friend picks up after a few seconds, with a surprisingly professional greeting - « _Uchuu, Leo Tsukinaga speaking, who are you ? »,_ a sentence that makes him grin, so he tries to match it, to say something that would cheer up too, pouring his soul into his own answer, loudly proclaiming « _It’s me, your best friend ! Mama ! Mikejima Ma-da-ra ! »,_ making sure that the whole street would know.

 

Know that he was sorry, that he wanted to change ; that Leo Tsukinaga was his best friend, his very best friend, the one person he wanted to climb mountains with, the genius who already played the songs that weren’t done forming in his own head – and that all those things were terribly important, words worth shouting, reasons not to ride his bike into a wall ever again, motivation enough to try, just one more time, to reach the moon.

 

That he’d found inspiration watching a red hero pick up the most unlikely fight.

 

And Leo laughs.

Not immediately ; it takes quite a bit of rambling on his side, but eventually, he hears it, after his third or fourth « sorry » - mocking yet still filled with that brightness that was so characteristic of his best friend, the noise that used to echo in Yumenosaki’s corridors, the prelude to so many beautiful songs, Leo’s laughter resounds. He can tell he’s been forgiven. He can tell he’s being understood. The distance doesn’t matter. 

 

\-  Mama ! I love you ! I really, really love you ! Or do I have to say it like you ? I LOOOOOOVE you ! It’s okay !  Does it hurt less now ? Did you figure it out ?

 

He comes close to tears ; there he was, blessed by magic for the second time in a single day. They never needed to bother with hello ;  when their heart were open, talking became too little and too much at the same time. Yes,  _ it _ was hurting just a little less now, even if facing the storm meant he would inevitably get drenched in emotions he’d feared for too long, but he didn’t mind it all that much. It was easier to challenge the impossible without worrying that he’d never be able to share a moment like this with his best friend ever again.

With just one phone conversation, he could begin to hold on to that fragment of sunlight and leave the bad memories behind.

 

\- It’s getting better, but I might have to write just a few songs about it before I can figure it out for good, you know ? 

\-  Awesome ! 

 

It’s really frustrating, not being able to hug him tightly in that moment ; however, there’s still one last things he wants to do - answer the hurtful question, lost to the darkness of that night. 

_ “Is that because because I’m useless, Mama ? Because I can’t do anything for you?” _

 

\- I really need you Leo ! You’re a genius, after all ! 

\- It’s true ! Bye-bye Mama ! I have some genius-ing to do actually ! You know, adult stuff and all that ! 

 

The phone call ends before he can even say goodbye.

It’s perfect like this - he closes his eyes, letting the sun shine down on him, feeling truly unstoppable. 

  
  
  


***

 

Physical therapy with Chiaki is fun – difficult, but ultimately rewarding.

The doctors compliment their teamwork at the end of each appointment. They don’t even mention his career anymore or the goals they’d discussed with his agent, too impressed by Chiaki’s relentless cheering to even try and interrupt him . He’d thought he’d get tired of it after a while, but it helps, even when he stumbles upon an unexpected obstacle, there’s something within him that wants to match that passion. He’d run again someday, so that those encouraging words wouldn’t have been in vain. After all, in Chiaki’s eyes, even when his legs wouldn’t cooperate, he was still a hero, one who didn’t have to follow the archetype to make his dreams come true.

He wasn’t sure he believed it yet, but working toward a noble goal made him feel hopeful.

 

The rest of his time is spent refining his new songs. Leo’s never satisfied with his raw guitar instrumentals whenever he asked for an opinion - he reworks them for days into beautiful, richer melodies without ever demanding the permission to. They spend hours on the phone trying to find the notes that feel right, the perfect balance of lyrics and song - he gets an angry text from  _ Sena  _ at some point, describing in colorful words his newfound hatred for country music, but it’s hard to not smile when he’s so caught up in the process of creating again. He still tells Leo to pay more attention to his grumpy roommate – only to spend the night playing guitar for him again.

There’s no hesitation anymore - his fingers, guided by a clear feeling, find a way to convey what he can’t put into words.

 

And it’s small, at first.

The happiness wants to slip away, because he’s not gentle, because of the fragile things he’s broken – there’s so many reasons not to trust his own hands, incapable of handling anything with care, so many voices telling him to give up. It’s a temporary bliss.  _ You’re gonna make it go away. _

Still he tries.

 

That small happiness grows back a few leaves. His agent organizes a fan meeting, and, handshake after handshake, he’s met with gratefulness, he learns about the good he’s done without knowing – sometimes, people were just a movie away from a bad day or a terrible decision. They ask him for advice too, telling him stories of the inspiration they’d found in his performances – to start working out again or to cut a toxic person out of their lives. He’s surprised, but he does his best to cheer them on, repeating the same few lines, the ones they need to hear from a hero.

_ Don’t give up, I believe in you. _

It fills his head with new thoughts.

 

After two months of physical therapy, he takes his first walk without crutches, and loses balance almost immediately when Chiaki jumps into his arms. They share a long hug - he can’t stop himself from saying  _ thank you,  _ over and over again until he has to let go. There was still progress to be made, but this – this was magical.

He starts taking long strolls by the riverside in the evening.

  
  


He used to go jogging there everyday, never caring for the scenery, but he notices it now, the flowers in bloom, the soft colors of the sky mirrored in water. It reminds him of festivals, with everything melting into one vivid lively picture, turning the ordinary world upside down. He listens to the silence carefully and looks around for inspiration, making a conscious effort to suppress less noble urges by focusing on something else.

His heart still wants to run.

So that he wouldn’t have to watch the people around him smiling so wide, so that the questions in his mind would finally stop making him feel so bad, when he was trying so hard to fix his mistakes – it would take so little for the culpability to go away, hurting only for a moment before the euphoria could take over. He wouldn’t even have to force it all that much. These legs could run if they needed to. He could trample on his own happiness.

He doesn’t.

 

_ Be ambitious. Make them proud. _

 

It’s only after two weeks that he meets a familiar person by the riverside, a coincidence more perfect than anything he could have hoped for.

 

\- Kuro-san ! Good evening !

\- Mikejima ?

 

The young man doesn’t seem especially pleased by their lucky encounter. He can’t blame him ; though he’d done his best to earn his respect by the end of highschool, most of the memories they shared were unpleasant moments of strife and quarrels. He was childish, back then ; refusing to listen to even the wisest words in favor of his personal whims.

Kuro gets over his confusion quickly, offering him a warm smile as they resume walking side by side.

 

\- How’s recovery ? It must be hard for you when you can’t just run and clear you head, right ?

 

He suppresses a sigh at that remark. Everybody knew about his accident – distant cousins, former classmates, strangers on the streets, they all got the information from news articles or bad tv reports and assumed there wasn’t more to it than that, than the spectacular quality of an actor suddenly shedding real blood and coming close to death.

Kuro wasn’t like that, but it was still just a bit disheartening to never be able to share that story on his own terms – eventually, the red-haired man notices his discomfort.

 

\- Ah, sorry, it’s just that all the guys from the old Yumenosaki were talking about your accident. Even Hasumi was all worried for your mental health, you know ? Said he thought you’d lost your will to live or something like that.

\- Really ? He shouldn’t be making grey hairs over me. I’m doing perfectly fine.

\- You know that’s not what it looks like when you drive a bike at that insane speed, right ? It totally makes it seems like you want to end it.

 

He stops dead in his tracks. The sunlight, the glimmering waters of the river, they all fade into nothingness, suppressed by the memories of a darker time.

 

_ When you drive a bike at that insane speed, you don’t care about anyone anymore.  _

 

Going so fast that the universe stopped making sense, he could begin to bear the loneliness, to focus on his heartbeat, on the rhythm of his breath, feeling human if only for a short while, in a blurry, nonsensical world where there was no conversations to be had, his existence becoming almost too enjoyable, just because he didn’t have to worry anymore, just because speed erased everything, destroying even the worst of his thoughts, wind blowing into his hair until his mind was blank and empty save from the simple notions of left and right. He didn’t hate himself, but he didn’t like what he had become either, finding compromise in the no man’s land - in the great emptiness of a make-believe road.

 

His former classmates had all changed for the best, but he’d remained a monster.

The waves had carried him for a while, and he’d come out of it with his soul more eroded than before, with his vision tainted, unable to look at his happy memories without feeling lost and abandoned. He loved to help, he truly wished to see everyone grow – but it was hard to keep going when the end result was inevitably the same, when after one last push, they flew away to skies he couldn’t reach. Leo had moved to America with Sena by his side, Arashi was an european superstar, Anzu couldn’t even fit his number in her endless list of phone contacts. The movie producers had come to him like saviors, promising to make the most of that destructive energy he still held, so of course, he’d rushed into this wonderland, giving it his all. 

 

There was nothing healthy about the way he rode his bike, but it looked beautiful on film, dramatic, as if his life truly was at stake each time – that was the real acting, making everyone believe his distress was faked. 

He was still learning how to ask for help, forcing himself to believe, with each new step, that he was deserving of that love.  

 

\- I just throw all my precious things away without ever looking like I care even a little, don’t I ? 

 

Kuro stares at him - he can’t tell what he’s thinking at all, but if he had to take a wild guess, he’d say he’s being judged. He accepts it.

There were many mistakes to look at, debris from the recent accident, tears that weren’t done drying, so much incriminating evidence pointing back to him and his selfish ways - someone had to scolded him and making pay for that damage,  but hat he’s met with is nothing more than a mocking smile. 

 

\- It’s because you don’t want people to _ see _ that you care, Mikejima, even I knows that much. But I still don’t think it’s a great way to live.

 

The reproach is fair. He knows it’s pointless to tell him about all the things he’d unlearned ; Kuro could always see him for who he was, so it was probably already obvious to him, that he didn’t want to keep chasing oblivion. If anything, he was motivated to embrace the entire earth, to turn the sprout of his happiness into an infinite tree, so that it’d become a shelter.

For all of those who were cold and who’d gotten lost, searching for a reason, looking for a long lost friend.

 

\- Kuro-san… How many people can one meet in a lifetime ?

\- Why are you asking me that ? Are you scheming something ? 

 

He laughs. Maybe his heart had gotten just a little larger, but there was no escaping a reputation like his. Even if he tried to save the world - he’d still look like a mad giant recklessly shaking the earth.

 

\- Haha ! Who knows ?

 

It was better to keep his ambitions a secret. 

In time, he’d be able to show Kuro a nice surprise. 

 

***

 

Summer ends - he walks by the river one last time, just to make one more memory. He knew, better than everyone, how quickly human being could move on, forgetting blood, tears and tyranny within a second of bliss, how much of this immeasurable pain would disappear from his mind once he’d get to run again - life followed the motions of the waves, turning mountains into sand, grains so small it was impossible to recognize, impossible to remember what used to be.

He used to think of it a great injustice, but now, as the sun was setting, he could begin to understand the beauty of it all – those waves of change, he wanted them to come and swallow his former self until that loser drowned. There was one last thing to do before the end credits ; afterwards, he’d let that useless rogue character fade away.

 

He comes to the aquarium the next day, hoping for a miracle ; they had never exchanged numbers, leaving it to fate to decide whether they should ever be reunited. It was hero’s promise, silly and full of dreams, words he’d brazenly declared before their graduation live.

He finds the way to his favorite exhibit right away, familiar with the layout of the building, stopping in front of the biggest tank.

Instinctively, he lays his hand on the thick glass, as if trying to communicate with the marine life. There were too many fishes for him to count, most of them completely uninterested in his presence ; the question echoes in his mind once more, haunting and powerful, how many people can I meet in this life ? But it puts a smile on his face, because the spectacle in front of his eyes is simply too beautiful, a mesmerizing dance of light reflecting the colors of a thousand scales. There were too many people to meet, and so many that wouldn’t ever notice him, a giant on the other side of the glass, that the frustration almost felt like a gift. He was motivated to meet the whole wide world, against all odds, sing loud enough to shatter those unneeded walls, creating a big festival where everyone would meet.

He taps the glass, still trying to get the fishes attention.

 

\- You are ‘disturbing’ the aquarium, a familiar voice scold.

 

His heart skips a beat, even if it doesn’t show – he had to keep himself together in the face of this miracle.

It’s him, without a doubt.

 

\- I was trying to make friends ! he protests as Kanata moves to stand next to him.

 

His presence doesn’t feel real, but he’s too afraid to touch him, too afraid to pinch his own arm too, find out it was just an illusion, under those neon lights who reminded him so much of his hospital room. If he closed his eyes, he could believe this was just another of those perfect movie scenes, with pretty coincidences that would never come true. Just like that, he’d stumbled on a perfect ending. The person he wanted to apologize to the most had come to him naturally.

 

\- You already have ‘friends’.

 

Kanata’s tone is as cold as ever. Fair criticism, he thinks. I’ve met a lot of wonderful people already.

In this magical scene, he doesn’t have to tell him about anything – about Leo’s bitter tears, Arashi-san’s gentle smile, not even about Chiaki’s encouraging words reawakening his heart of justice.

He almost says thank you, but that is also unneeded. Kanata knew the story of the child who wouldn’t stop asking him to play, who came back even when the adults tried to chase him away – he’d seen through him long ago.

 

\- You’re not threatening me as I intrude on your precious place ? What a special day, he jokes, turning his head away from the glass wall.

 

It’s a split-second decision, and while it’s simple, he doesn’t find it easy ; but he reaches for Kanata’s hand anyways. It feels warm and human - he can’t help but compare it to a very different sensation, pondering about how, just a few months ago, all his palms could ever sense was the cold bite of metal and the dampness of fake blood. Back then, without even noticing, he had begun to metamorphose into a machine too. An evil robot with no emotions.

Until, heroically, his friends had managed to pull out the scraps of his broken heart from that large pile of debris.

 

\- I’ve mastered it, right ? I’m not crushing your fingers yet ? He asks, desperately trying to sound laidback.

 

He’d been rejected so many times before, but Kanata was keeping his hand still today, and it was a real challenge not to just jump into his arms and squeeze him until all the remaining guilt disappeared. It was too early.

After the ending credits, after the audience had left the theater, a new story would begin. A story about love.

A story with a bright, shining protagonist.

 

\- I wanted to tell you… you were right. I was lonely.

 

He can tell the wave is coming ; he sees the loser die, in the span of a sentence, and there’s a brief moment of emptiness where he doesn’t exist - after all, he’d build an entire identity around this notion that he should never need anyone - but the wave eventually disappears, carrying this curse into the ocean, and he’s still standing in the aquarium, holding Kanata’s hand, feeling true joy.

 

\- But I think I found it now...

 

_ I’ve changed. _

 

\- … My reason to keep chasing happiness.

  
  



End file.
